Poem: To the person who finds my black ankle socks at the top of Fisher Stadium

Hi there! I wrote this poem during my sophomore year of college. COVID was still running rampant, virtual classes were hard and awkward, and I felt overwhelmed just about every day. 

Then, on a random October evening in the middle of the semester, I saw a beautiful sunset glowing into my bedroom window on Parsons Street. Running outside to meet it, I found comfort in the brilliance of the sky. I’m sharing the poem of this story here, with you. I hope it reminds you to make space for beautiful moments, big and small, even on those long, stressful days. (And to always remember your socks, too!)

To the person who finds my black ankle socks at the top of Fisher Stadium

I was working on an exam

trying to pull words from a brain that did not want to make them

when I saw yellow light cast across my taupe-colored walls

bathing the world in gold

I did not think to grab my sneakers

I sprinted out of my house, sock-feet slipping on damp concrete

everything smelled like rain and second chances

and I found myself at the football field

The sky was aflame with color

as if fire had risen from below and kissed the sky

lavender clouds of smoke curling through the buttery glow

I climbed to the top of the stadium

my socks cold and wet in my haste

pulling them off

I took a seat

and leaned against the banister

cold metal biting my legs through worn jeans

watching the flames burn into darkness

It was only when the sunset had been faded by time that I rose

my eyes alight with the afterimage of transitory beauty

I did not think to grab my socks

too entranced by the way the world had changed around me

the stadium had been bathed in pink light just moments ago

the sidewalk was sharp as I walked back home

To the person who finds my black ankle socks at the top of Fisher Stadium:

I confess to you, though unintentionally, my secret moment

the mesmerizing minutes I spent on those bleachers

my hair frizzy from the drizzling rain

socks beside me, discarded, unaware they’d be left behind

as I watched the sky burn

My socks an echo of a moment that was temporary

a moment that was mine

and, I suppose, a moment that is now yours, too